Bulletproof
by BaldiDaughterChevy
Summary: My story about that ill-fitting Carhartt jacket Sam starts wearing after the pilot.


**My story about that ill-fitting Carhartt jacket Sam starts wearing after the pilot.**

 **So I just started rewatching the series and that brown, Carhartt hoodie of Sam's just stood out to me for some reason. It's not really his style, it's not incredibly flattering even on his beautiful self, and when he sits down it doesn't come to the ends of his wrists (that's a pet peeve of mine).**

 **Sooo I noticed he wears that khaki cargo jacket the whole pilot and in the first few scenes of Wendigo but then...that dreaded Carhartt appears.**

 **Anyways, I don't know if I'm the first to notice that but this is my angsty thoughts on the subject.**

 **No, i don't own them. It makes me sad every day.**

 **Rated T for a tiny bit of language. Otherwise it's pretty innocent.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **Italics indicate the scene takes place pre-series.**

 **Bulletproof**

" _Dad? What's wrong?"_

 _John stops the car by the side of the road and Dean looks up from the backseat of the Impala._

 _It's nearly dark but the bright, sleepy flush of his cheeks stands out in the twilight._

 _Dean's arms are wrapped protectively around his little brother who sleeps on._

 _"Stay here, Dean" John says._

 _There's a frightened pitch to his dad's voice that makes Dean's heart drop down to his toes._

 _"Dad?" he says again, more worried this time. John bends around to the backseat and looks intently at his oldest son._

 _Barely 7 years old and Dean has a gaze older than most adults; his wide, green, eyes seem ancient as they stare up at him with a tired, hollow, fear no child should know._

 _John sighs and takes off his heavy Carhartt jacket. He reaches back and wraps the coat tightly around his boys, tucking it in. It's a simple gesture but it's all he can think to do._

 _"I'll be back soon, Dean. I promise."_

 _John gets out of the car as quietly as he can and Dean hears him open the trunk, hears the metallic clack as his dad loads the shotgun. "Dad?!" He says again in a panicked whisper._

 _But John is already gone, off into the woods beside the highway._

 _Dean closes his eyes tightly and huddles with Sam beneath the warm cover of his dad's jacket. There's nothing special about that coat, but it smells like his father, a mixture of smoke, whiskey, and gun oil, and...Dean ponders...maybe a bit like his Mom? There's a faintly warm whisper of vanilla deep in the layers of fabric that reminds Dean of his mother._

 _For a moment he's 4 years old again, wrapped safely in his mother's embrace, slipping away from consciousness while she sings softly._

 _The sound of a shotgun breaks the silence._

 _Dean jerks awake and feels Sammy stirring in his arms._

 _"Dean...?" Sam asks_

 _"shhh sh" Dean hushes, "Go back to sleep."_

 _He pulls the coat tighter around his little brother and Sam settles into Dean's chest, tucking his head beneath his chin._

 _When John finally returns it's close to sunrise and both his boys are sleeping._

 **11 years later:**

 _Sam is 14 when he gets seriously hurt for the first time._

 _The Winchester's are investigating a haunting at a farmhouse where a man murdered his wife and daughter then turned the gun on himself._

 _John and Dean manage to salt and burn the bodies and destroy the locket that the farmer's wife is bound to but not before she throws an inexperienced Sam down a spiral staircase._

 _Sam gets a compound fracture and an ER visit._

 _Dean gets a scorching lecture about not looking out for his brother and that night neither of the Winchester boys can sleep._

 _Sam lays in the silence with a splinted arm and a belly full of painkillers that barely take the edge off, trying not to let Dean hear him cry._

 _After a lifetime of training and and minor hunting accidents, pain isn't a new sensation to Sam._

 _The real sting comes with the thought that his dad had finally trusted him and he'd gotten in the way. Gotten hurt. Slowed them down. Acted like the useless kid he always suspected he was._

 _So he lays in the dark, choking into a pillow until he feels the bed sink down._

 _Dean is beside him._

 _Sam feels the familiar weight of their dad's old jacket as Dean wraps it around him._

 _The jacket has been shared between all of them now so it smells like Dean too, a rich, earthy smell-like coffee and leather._

 _Dean's hand gently smooths Sam's shaggy hair._

 _He uses his good arm to dry his face on a sleeve of the jacket and takes a deep breath._

 _Wrapped in the protective embrace of his brother's coat he drifts off at last._

 **4 years later:**

 _"If you walk out that door don't ever come back!"_

 _Leaning back in a cheap plastic chair, Dean can hear his father and brother fighting through the thin door of the motel room._

 _A few minutes later Sam storms out, slamming the door and blowing past Dean._

 _"Sam stop!"_

 _But Sam doesn't stop and Dean takes off after him._

 _He's already at the car when Dean catches him. He puts a hand on his shoulder and Sam spins around breathing heavily._

 _He looks like he either wants to punch him or fall into him but he can't decide which._

 _"Sam, you know dad's just..." Dean starts._

 _"Don't defend him, Dean!"_

 _Sam is still shouting and his voice is tight, like an overstretched rubber band, ready to break at any moment._

 _"Don't you dare say he's worried about me, or he secretly just loves me. If he loved me he would be proud of me instead of pushing me away. I don't know what I expected. I knew he wouldn't be happy for me, I knew it...but I can't...I just... I can't do this anymore..."_

 _Sam's voice cracks on the last word and he looks away._

 _"Sam." Says Dean, and his tone is calm and incredibly gentle, like he's comforting Sam after a nightmare._

 _"Get in the car, I'll drive you to the bus."_

 _Sam blinks and shifts. He starts to say something but realises one more word and he'll break down._

 _Dean's already in the front seat._

 _"Get in, man, before I change my mind" says Dean._

 _Wordlessly, Sam opens the door and slides into the passenger seat._

 _He keeps his eyes fixed firmly out the window while Dean drives them into town._

 _When they reach the bus station Dean starts babbling._

 _"Look, you better call me every week at least, dude. I'm gonna need a full report on all those hot college girls you're gonna be "studying" with."_

 _Sam laughs at Dean's lame air quotes but it sounds more like a choke._

 _Dean looks at him and despite the cocky smile there's a painful set to his brother's jaw, a tired, rawness in his eyes, like a wound that keeps ripping open._

 _Sam nods quickly and looks away again running a palm over eyes that won't stop leaking._

 _He knows he has to leave now or he never will. He grabs his duffel bag from the backseat and reaches for the door handle._

 _"Wait!" Dean says._

 _He takes off the old, familiar Carhartt, folds it haphazardly and hands it to Sam._

 _"I doubt you'll need it in California but you never know."_

 _Sam tries to say thanks but his stupid throat is still too tight so he just nods again._

 _"Goddamit it" says Dean quietly._

 _He grabs Sam by the shoulder and hauls him across the seat._

 _For a minute Sam's breaking apart inside his brother's arms._

 _Then, Dean shoves him away._

 _"Get the fuck out of here, college boy."_

 **About a week after the pilot:**

Dean watches the steady rise and fall of Sam's chest as he drives down a country road.

It's second nature to him; he doesn't have to remember to keep an eye on Sam anymore than he has to remember to breathe. It's just a part of his routine that slipped away when Sam left. But it has come back so naturally with the unthinking ease of muscle memory. Like riding the proverbial bicycle, or, in the hunter's case, loading and firing a weapon.

Lately Sam needs a little extra looking after.

Even though he doesn't look exactly comfortable-his huge body crammed into the front seat-this is the first time Dean has seen him sleeping somewhat peacefully since that awful night.

Less than a week ago the love of his life burned alive before his eyes. Just like their mom 22 years ago.

And it's almost too much for him.

After a life spent around death Sam and Dean have a certain anticipation of it. A little hesitation when they meet new people. They hold back a bit because getting attached hurts when the attachment is inevitably ripped, the bond broken.

It's a lesson every hunter learns, but those raised in the life know it that much better.

So Dean understands how much it took for Sam to finally allow himself to fall in love; to open up to the dream of a gentle life away from the constant fear and pain and death he grew up with.

But of course, the monsters had lifted their ugly heads, smirking to remind Sam, "no, no, you're a Winchester, son! No happy endings for you."

Now Dean looks at his sleeping brother, crunched up beside him and feels a mixture of joy and pain.

The Sam shaped hole in him that ached every day for four long years is filled at last.

Sam, his Sammy is back.

But Sammy is broken. In a way that Dean can't just splint or sew up. In a way that Dean fears he might not ever be able to fix.

A tiny, horrible, twisted part of him so dark and deep, deep, down he refuses to acknowledge it is just happy he has Sam back. At any cost.

He silences that tiny voice in his head that whispers "You're glad Sam's life is over." He crushes that thought down.

But not before he thinks "You caused this. You came back into Sam's life because you're selfish and now his girlfriend is dead."

Dean takes a deep breath and tries to get ahold of his runaway thoughts.

He looks back at Sam and watches him with an unmasked fondness that he'd never let show if Sam were awake.

Lately Dean has been jarred from sleep on one too many nights to the sound of his little brother screaming himself awake after a nightmare.

As awful as that is, it's still preferable to the times when Sam is quiet.

Those sleepless nights when he lays awake with his back to Dean. He tries so hard to keep silent, but sometimes Dean hears him anyway; hears the muffled sniffling, sees his shoulders shaking.

On those nights Dean doesn't sleep either, he just lays paralysed; tortured by the space between their beds.

Just a few small feet that he can't cross.

He just can't quite brave walking into the storm of his brother's private grief.

So now he does what he can to give Sam some peace.

He drives extra careful, avoiding bumps and keeps the music turned down low enough not to be disturbing.

When Sam starts trembling less than half an hour later, Dean knows what's coming. He's seen it before. The start of the nightmares.

A few seconds later Sam jolts awake with a suppressed scream. For several moments a howling, black, chasm of grief, fear, and guilt shows in his brother's eyes, then the careful mask slips deftly back into place and Sam is

"Fine."

"Perfectly ok."

"Hey" says Dean. He reaches around to the backseat

"Watch the road, man!" Sam starts to yell at him then falls silent when he sees what Dean is holding.

"You left this here the other night." He says.

Sam is speechless and that vulnerable look creeps back into his eyes.

"I thought it...burned..I thought..." he doesn't finish his sentence, just takes the coat shakily from Dean, sheds his khaki cargo jacket (that still smells like smoke even though he's washed it about 6 times) and puts it on reverently.

Sam couldn't say why he finds the old coat so comforting, whether it's the familiarity of it, the memories of Dean wrapping it around him on long, cold nights spent hunting, or the fact that after all these years, there's still a faint whisp of vanilla in the lining-a fragrance Dean always said his mom wore-but Sam instantly feels calmer. Safer. Bulletproof.

"Thank you" he says tightly.

Dean pretends not to notice how wet Sam's eyes suddenly are.

"You're welcome, Sammy"

~The End.~

 **Well that's all I've got for now.**

 **I don't know if this will mean anything to anyone besides me, but I use familiar clothes and jewelry to cope with my anxiety so I thought maybe the Winchesters do too.**

 **P.S. I deeply apologise for the weird-ass formatting. It wasn't my intention to introduce each new scene so formally but I couldn't get the paragraphs to stand apart any other way. Apparently iOS and fanfiction are not friends and refuse to play nicely with each other.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Tell me if you did :)**


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